Neither Snow, nor Rain, nor Fever of 103
by Kkarrie
Summary: Lassiter is sick, but he isn't going to let a little thing like a fever keep him from his civic duty. At least he won't once he takes some medicine and a short nap.


There was no word in the English language that could describe how Carlton Lassiter felt Monday morning when his alarm went off at 5:30. Horrible didn't cut it and neither did wretched. The best Lassiter could manage when O'Hara asked him how he was feeling, when he walked through the station doors at 7:00, was a mixture of a groan and a mumble combined with pure nausea sweeping through his entire body as he fought to keep down the cup of coffee he'd already had that morning.

He managed to ignore the feeling for a while by massaging his temples and breathing softly rather than filing his reports. He probably could have sat there all day, but a hand on his forehead made him jump in surprise.

"Sweet Justice!" he snapped, wincing at the sudden movement.

"Carlton, I'm sorry, but you sound horrible and you've been sitting with your head in your hands for an hour," his partner's voice softly scolded him.

Lassiter didn't care that she was using his first name or that the tone she was using was almost reprimanding. He had assumed the same position as before, trying to make the pounding in his head quiet down again. The hand reached out to his forehead again, but this time he didn't jump.

"Carlton, you're burning up." This time O'Hara's voice sounded surprised. "You need to go to a doctor."

"No, I don't!" Lassiter protested, looking at her for the first time all morning; his eyes tired and puffy, his face flushed. "I don't get sick," he added and then put his head back in his hands.

"Then you need to go home and rest. You have enough sick time saved up; you can afford to go home." Juliet tugged on her partner's arm and got him standing, although he was shaky.

"Those reports need filing," Lassiter protested, dragging his feet as O'Hara led him to the door.

"I'll get them filed," she promised him, helping him down the steps to the front door. Lassiter started fishing in his pockets for his keys. "Don't even think about it." Juliet used the same commanding voice that Lassiter had taught her to use on suspects. "You're in no condition to drive."

The fact that Lassiter didn't continue to protest as Juliet put him into the passenger side of her department issue, or when she stopped at a drug store to get some medicine was enough of an indication that Lassiter needed the day to rest, maybe the one after that too.

Every bump in the pavement and every turn that O'Hara took too sharply made Lassiter's head spin even more.

"Did you feel like this yesterday?"Juliet asked him as they walked slowly up the front steps of Lassiter's house.

Lassiter took a moment to think very hard about her question. "No," he finally decided.

"Give me your keys." Juliet held out her hand.

Lassiter fumbled in his pocket for his keyring and finally handed it over.

It took a balancing act for Juliet to get the door unlocked and her partner inside without dropping the bag containing the medicine and orange juice she'd gotten at the store. "Take your shoes off and go lie down on the couch," she ordered him.

Lassiter didn't respond, but slowly walked to the couch in the living room, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it onto the arm chair along with his tie.

Juliet watched her partner take off his gun, check it and gently set it on the coffee table, still in the harness. Satisfied he was going to follow her directions, Juliet headed for the kitchen.

She poured a glass of juice and opened the bottle of pills. Getting Lassiter to take a couple of pills had seemed much easier than a dose of liquid anything. She walked out to the living room and found Lassiter lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"Carlton," she gently prodded him to sit up.

He gratefully took the glass of juice and the drugs. "I feel..." He didn't finish the statement and laid back down on the couch.

Juliet grabbed a blanket and gingerly covered him with it. "I have to get back to work, Carlton." Lassiter made an inarticulate noise in response. "I'll have someone come and check up on you in a few hours. There's more juice in the fridge and the medicine is on the counter." Another grunt met her ears to indicate that Lassiter had heard her.

As she headed back to the station, Juliet called the one person she knew didn't have any responsibilities that day. "Shawn, it's me. Hey, Lassiter isn't feeling too great and I took him home. Can you check in on him when you get this? I just gave him some medicine and he's taking a nap. I think he'll be alright, but I would feel horrible if something happened. So just make sure he's doing alright, thanks." She left a message on the Psych office phone and tried to refocus her mind on the reports she would need to file when she got back to the station.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Lassiter stared at the ceiling as he lay on the couch. O'Hara had draped a blanket over him and left a glass of juice on the coffee table. He vaguely remembered her saying that she would have someone check up on him. Lassiter inwardly snorted in amusement, as if he needed or even wanted someone to do that.

He supposed if he was being forced to stay at home he could get some of the projects that had been piling up over the past few months out of the way. But maybe that could wait until after a nap, he thought to himself, and let his eyelids droop.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn would have gone over to Lassiter's the minute that he got Juliet's voicemail, but there was a Magnum P.I. marathon on TV and since he was sure Lassie would understand the need to watch Tom Selleck drive around in a Ferari and save the day, Shawn watched a few episodes before going out to his motorcycle.

That meant it was almost three hours later when Shawn walked up the front steps of Lassiter's porch. He knew there wouldn't be a hide-a-key and he didn't want to risk sneaking in. The head detective might be sick, but that didn't mean he wouldn't shoot Shawn for what Lassiter would call 'breaking and entering'. So the psychic rang the doorbell. "Lassie, it's me; I'm here to make sure you're alright."

He expected there to be a long wait as Lassiter forced himself off of the couch and shuffled towards the door, or maybe the detective wouldn't answer at all, maybe he would be sleeping and Shawn would just have to tell Juliet that Lassie was fine and then Shawn could go back to the Magnum marathon.

What he didn't expect was for Lassiter throw the door open and drag Shawn in by the shirt collar.

"Lassie, what?" Shawn managed to get out as he was thrown on to the floor, behind the kitchen counter.

Lassiter quickly sat beside him. "Shhhh," he hissed. "They could be watching from anywhere."

"Who?" Shawn was very confused. "Lassie, Jules said you were sick."

"I am sick. I think they poisoned me." Lassiter looked at him very seriously, sniffling and wiping the sleeve of his shirt across his face. His eyes were slightly puffy and his voice almost hoarse.

"Did Juliet give you cold medicine?" Shawn asked.

"Yes, but that wore off hours ago. I had to take more." Lassiter peeked over the top of the counter and grabbed something that he then shoved into Shawn's hands.

Shawn looked at the bottle. It was cold medicine, but there was a lot more gone than there should have been if this was the one that Juliet said she bought. "Did Juliet get you this?"

Lassiter shook his head and winced slightly. "No, that's what I had in the bathroom. O'Hara bought me horse pills. I can't swallow the damn things."

Shawn studied the label of the bottle Lassiter had given him. The first red flag was the fact that the expiration date had past almost six months before. Gus was working on his route that afternoon and Shawn wished his best friend was there because Shawn couldn't make heads or tails of the drug facts on the side of the bottle. "Lassie, should you really be taking this?" Shawn turned to him.

Lassiter snatched the bottle from his hand. "No time to worry about that right now, Spencer. We need to figure out how they're watching us."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," Lassiter crept around the corner of the kitchen peninsula and Shawn noticed for the first time the glock in his hand.

Whoa, Lassie, do we really need the guns?" Shawn started looking up at the top of the counter for the other medicine that Juliet said she bought.

"Keep your head down, Spencer!" Lassiter snapped at him as Shawn grabbed the second bottle. "They can hit an apple from 800 yards. I'm sure they can hit that giant head of yours through the window."

"Lassie." Shawn fought hard to ignore the comment about the size of his head. "Lassiter." Still no response. "Carlton!" Shawn had to resort to using the head detective's first name as Lassiter continued to peer around the corner.

"Sweet Justice, are you trying to give away our position?" Lassiter glared at him.

"I don't know what is going on here and I need to know otherwise I'm liable to get us killed." Shawn was actually going to try to reason with Lassiter's twisted logic.

"I don't know how they did it." Lassiter started to calm down slightly. "But Spencer, they're using highly sophisticated weapons."

"Are you being hunted by the FBI?"

Lassiter make a noise of disgust. "The FBI is like a group of kindergartners compared to them. These are squirrels, Spencer. Their level of organization and skill is beyond what we could have imagined."

"Squirrels?" Shawn looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes, the vermin. They're out to get me." Lassiter looked around the corner again.

It took Shawn a moment to comprehend what Lassiter was telling him. He knew he needed to get some help and Juliet seemed the obvious choice, but Gus was the person who could tell him why Lassie had gone off the deep end. "Lassie, I need to call Gus, can I do that?"

Lassiter seemed to weigh the options in his mind and then sighed. "They can't hear us if we're down the hallway. Move behind me and don't make any sudden moves."

Shawn followed Lassiter down the hall, following the hand signals Lassiter flashed at him whenever there was a noise from outside. He was pulling out his cell phone when Lassiter shoved him in the bathroom.

"Make your call in there. I'll stand guard," Lassiter told him and then closed the door.

Shawn didn't want to admit to himself that Lassiter's behavior was starting to freak him out. He dialed Gus' number and waited for his best friend to pick up.

"Shawn, I don't care what episode is on right now. TiVo it and I'll watch it tonight. You know I have to get my route taken care of." Gus launched into his speech before Shawn could even say hello.

"Buddy, I don't care what episode is on either. I need your help." Shawn was whispering slightly, he didn't need Lassiter's paranoia interrupting this conversation.

"Why are you whispering? Did you get shot again?" Gus sounded panicked.

"No! No, I'm okay... sort of. Look, Lassie's sick and Juliet asked me to check up on him. Only I get here and Lassie's declared World War Three on squirrels and is convinced he's been surrounded. Seriously, dude, he's tripping on something."

"Squirrels?" Gus sounded doubtful.

"Look, I don't know what twisted part of Lassiter's mind made that up. I don't really need to know either, but I do need to know what is causing him to be this way."

Gus sighed. "What medicine did he take?"

Shawn cradled the phone between his shoulder and left ear and looked at the two bottles. "Jules said she gave him a dose of NyQuil, the pill kind, but then I got here and Lassie said he took a dose of..." Shawn tilted his head to read the bottle of liquid. "He took something red, the label is kind of ripped."

"Ripped labels don't help, Shawn."

"Well, all I know is it expired six months ago."

"You said it was red?"

"Yes, like red cream soda, red." Shawn continued to examine the bottle.

Gus made a noise of frustration. "Shawn, there was a red cold medicine, named Halzumine, that was pulled off the shelves last year because sometimes it could cause hallucinations, especially combined with other medicines. If Lassiter took a dose of that and Juliet gave him NyQuil just a couple hours ago, the drugs are probably interacting."

"So, what do I do?" Shawn could hear Lassiter talking to himself on the other side of the door.

"You need to get him to throw up and then you need to take him to the hospital. They should run some tests and make sure that he's not going to suffer any long lasting effects."

"How will we be able to tell those apart from the normal Lassiter effects?"

"Shawn." Gus' tone reminded Shawn that now might not be the best time for joking.

"I'm sorry, but the idea of forcing Lassiter to throw up and dealing with the squirrel paranoia is not appealing."

"And Lassiter going into shock and dying in his living room with you there is much more appealing?" Gus asked.

Shawn made a face. "Point taken. I'll call you if I need anything."

"Make sure you call Juliet, too."

"Already on that; there's no way I'm taking Lassie on my bike if he's going to hurl all over me."

"Just try not to get shot," Gus reminded him. "I'm still not convinced he didn't kill that reporter who spilled coffee on him at the news conference."

"You know as well as I do that the reporter was transfered to the Sacramento station. That was a farewell montage not an in memoriam montage." Shawn said, getting off topic. "But, I promise I will do my best not to get shot." Shawn ended his call with Gus and went to his contacts to call Juliet, but before Shawn could dial her number, Lassiter threw open the bathroom door.

"They've made our position. We have to leave." He grabbed for Shawn's arm and pulled him out into the hallway.

"Lassie, what about Juliet? I need to call her for something."

Lassiter looked at Shawn as if the psychic were crazy. "O'Hara's been compromised. We can't let her know where we are or what our plan of attack is."

"Attack? Lassie, what do you mean by-" Shawn didn't get chance to ask Lassiter what he meant by attack when the head detective's knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor.

Shawn was immediately on the floor, kneeling by the unconscious detective. He turned Lassiter over on his back and checked to make sure the detective was still breathing. He couldn't call Gus again, he would just get yelled at for not making Lassiter throw up. There was only one thing that Shawn could do while Lassiter wasn't responding... well two things; call Juliet and try to get Lassiter awake again.

"Jules, it's me, you aren't answering. I guess you're solving a case or something. Lassiter is fine." Shawn got Juliet's voice mail as he put his phone on speaker and tried to wake Lassiter up. He gave the head detective a slap across the face and winced when it didn't do anything except make his hand hurt. "There's just one thing, he kind of made a mess at his place. So I wouldn't try stopping by. He doesn't seem to want to see you." Shawn tried shaking Lassiter's shoulders. "Anyways, I'm just gonna get him another glass of juice and then let him rest some more. I'll talk to you later."

Lassiter still hadn't woken up. Shawn considered actually getting a glass of juice and dumping it on him. He didn't have to though, because as soon as Shawn started to head for the kitchen, Lassiter came to.

"What happened?" he asked groggily, coughing and trying to take big breathes.

"You passed out on me, Lassifrass." Shawn studied the detective.

"Damn squirrels," Lassiter mumbled, trying to take stock of his situation, but he was finding it hard to focus on things again.

"Lassie, I know now might not be the best time to bring this up." Shawn was trying to delicately tell the head detective he needed to upchuck and empty his stomach.

"Just spit it out, Spencer, I don't have all day."

"You've been poisoned." Shawn blurted out.

"I know I have; that's why I feel so damn awful."

"No, the medicine, they've poisoned it. You need to hurl, Lassie. You're Peter Pan, I'm Tinkerbell only I didn't get here in time to stop you from taking it." Shawn held a hand to his head, fully expecting to get yelled at for pulling the psychic card on Lassiter's sick day.

Shawn had never seen a man move from sitting on the floor to the bathroom as fast as Lassiter. Within seconds he could hear the tell-tale retching sound coming from the other side of the closed door.

When the sound stopped, Shawn slowly cracked the door open. "Lassifrass? Are you okay?"

The head detective was crouched in front of the toilet. His shoulders where still shaking from emptying his stomach. Slowly he nodded and flushed. "I'm fine," he said and stood up on shaky legs.

For a brief second Shawn was ready to believe that Lassiter was back to normal, but that's when Shawn's phone rang.

Both Shawn and Lassiter recognized the ring tone at the same time.

"I told you not to call her!" Lassiter lunged for the phone in Shawn's hand. He headed out to the living room and before Shawn could react, Lassiter pitched the phone across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a sickening crunch of plastic and the ringing stopped.

"That's my phone!" Shawn protested, walking over to the silent phone on the floor of the kitchen. As he passed through the living room, in front of the patio door, the sound of breaking glass filled the air and Shawn grabbed his arm and instinctively dropped to the floor.

"They've seen you!" Lassiter motioned for Shawn to get back into the safety of the hallway.

"There aren't really squirrels out there," Shawn protested as he crawled back to the hallway. He pulled his hand away from his arm and was surprised to see blood seeping into his shirt sleeve. "Squirrels don't even have guns!" He winced. "Man, I really liked this shirt, too.

Lassiter had his gun out. "O'Hara must have tipped them off. I warned you she was compromised."

"Lassie, somebody is shooting at us. Besides squirrels, who would it be?"

"There are lots of people who want to kill me," Lassiter said matter of factly.

"I know and you take great pride in it, yada, yada, yada," Shawn finished for him. "Right now, we just need to figure out where they are so we can shoot them."

"They've surrounded me, I told you that before." Lassiter gave Shawn a disgusted look. "They weakened my immune system and now they've poisoned me twice. Once causing me to be sick and then poisoning the very thing I thought would restore my health." He cocked his pistol. "Sneaky bastards, aren't they?"

"I don't care how sneaky they are, there's a bad guy sneaking across your backyard for the door." Shawn pointed with his good arm.

Lassiter wasn't able to get a clean shot at the man wearing jeans and a hoodie who was sneaking across his backyard. The man in the hoodie managed to get into a blind spot on Lassiter's deck.

"We're in a tight spot," Lassiter murmured.

"Well, obviously. Where is your cell phone?" Shawn whispered furiously. "We need to call the cops."

"We can't they've-"

"They have not been compromised!" Shawn told him, raising his voice slightly.

Lassiter nodded his head towards where his jacket was draped over the arm chair on the other side of the living room. "My phone would be in my jacket pocket." He sniffed loudly and blinked a few times, trying to clear his sinuses. "Spencer, this is it. I'm done for."

"You aren't going to die," Shawn assured him, trying to figure out if he would have time to bolt across the room without getting shot a second time. "I need you to cover me while I try to get your phone."

A scratching sound at the front door made both men turn their attention that way.

"I told you, surrounded." Lassiter tightened his grip on the glock.

"I want a gun," Shawn told him.

"I'm not giving you a gun," Lassiter sniffled again.

"I don't care. I wasn't asking you for one; I was telling you the facts," Shawn whispered furiously.

"There's one in the bathroom, in the shower." Lassiter finally relented. "I'll get it," he snapped as Shawn started to head for the bathroom.

The detective came back seconds later with a small Walther.

"You're giving me a BB gun." Shawn raised an eyebrow at him.

"It'll still kill a man, so watch where you shoot it," Lassiter told him, eyes focused on the door.

There was some muffled swearing outside the door. Shawn couldn't make out what was being said, but that wasn't because of the muffledness. It was because they weren't speaking in English.

"That's Russian; the squirrels are probably using it to confuse me," Lassiter whispered

Shawn was about to tell Lassiter to shut up about the squirrels when he realized the detective looked queasy again. "You okay, Lassie?"

Lassiter shook his head. "Spencer, I think I need to throw up again."

"Well don't do it on me!" Shawn inched away from the head detective, accidentally putting himself in view of the deck. Another shot fired through the window and took a chunk out of the corner of the wall, just above Shawn's head.

Someone gave the front door a solid kick, but thankfully it didn't burst open.

"I own really good locks," Lassiter said, his face pale and sweat starting to bead on his forehead and upper lip.

"Cover me," was all Shawn said and then bolted for the other side of the living room. He grabbed the suit jacket from the back of the chair and dragged it into the kitchen with him.

"Don't wrinkle it!" Lassiter protested.

"Dude, your phone isn't even in here." Shawn tossed the useless jacket back towards the arm chair.

"Maybe it's on my desk." Lassiter let his head rest against the wall of the hallway. He was trying to fight the nausea again.

"What desk?" Shawn looked around the room.

"My desk at the station, idiot," Lassiter snapped.

"Please tell me you have another phone in your house." Shawn sounded panicked as the front door gave way a little to another kick from the outside.

"I disconnected the land line when I signed my divorce papers. It's a useless expense since I'm never home," Lassiter told him.

"So, we're stuck in your house, with two guys who want to kill us and no way of contacting the police?" Shawn winced as another kick at the door splintered the wood slightly.

"Those squirrels are feisty." Lassiter nodded.

"They aren't squirrels!" Shawn shouted, realizing that the person on the other side of the door, the one trying to break in, had stopped trying to break in. "Maybe your neighbors scared him off," Shawn said, his voice quiet now.

Lassiter gave a small laugh. "My neighbors probably want me dead at this point."

Another gun shot ripped through the air, completely busting out the large glass window on Lassiter's patio door.

Shawn cautiously looked around the corner of the counter and wasn't surprised to see two men edging around the corner of the house, trying to get inside. He caught Lassiter's eye and made hand signals to tell Lassie that the bad guys were about to come in, but Lassiter didn't seem to understand the signals. Which was ridiculous because Shawn had learned them from Dragnet, which everyone knew was completely accurate in every aspect of police work.

Lassiter gave the psychic a confused look, peeked around the corner of the hallway and realized what Spencer had been trying to tell him.

Shawn took a shot at the two men, knowing his aim would be off because of the angle of the counter and the pain in his arm where the bullet had grazed him before.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, Spencer," Lassiter snapped at him when Shawn's shot went wide and only put another hole in Lassiter's wall.

"Maybe you could help me! Since I'm sort of bleeding all over your floor." Shawn yelled back.

"There's nobody to help you," a new voice called out. The thick Russian accent led Shawn to believe it was one of the men on the patio. "Detective Lassiter, we know you are in there and we want you to know that we are going to kill you."

"He isn't using contractions, Lassie, that means he's lying... if you believe that TV show about liars."

"Contractions are for women having babies, Spencer," Lassiter growled and risked another glance around the corner. He would only have one shot and if it was open he needed to take it.

"You know what else is a sign of someone who is lying?" Shawn yelled out, throwing Lassiter's concentration off.

"Shut it, Spencer, if you so much as-"

"No, I want to hear what he is yammering about." the Russian voice interrupted.

Shawn slowly stood up from behind the counter, leaving his gun on the floor.

"Spencer, what in Sweet Lady Justice's name are you doing?" Lassiter hissed.

"I'm just saying that people who lie can't make eye contact." Shawn met the eyes on the Russian, who was now standing just inside the patio door.

"What is he, your babysitter, detective?" The Russian laughed, his partner laughing as well.

"Euw, no!" Shawn protested. "Lassie, tell them I'm just... well tell them something."

Lassiter didn't utter a word. He took the moment that Shawn distracted both of the men by making eye contact to stand and come out from the corner. Before anyone could move a muscle, Lassiter fired two shots. Hitting both of the men in the shoulder of their right arms.

The one who had been doing the talking went to reach for his gun that he'd dropped.

"Don't even think about it," Lassiter growled. "Unless you're feeling lucky."

Shawn grinned. "I always wanted you to say something like that."

"Lassiter!" Juliet came running around the back of the house, McNab following her, both of them with their guns drawn. "Are you guys okay?" She noticed the blood stain on Shawn's shirt.

"Cuff 'em, O'Hara, I have something to take care of." Lassiter didn't wait for her to answer and headed for the bathroom.

"Where is he going?" McNab looked concerned.

"Don't worry about it, Buzz," Shawn ignored the retching sound coming from the bathroom. He gave a small grin and watched the rookie and Juliet each cuff one of the Russians. "The important thing is, no one is dead, but we probably should head to the hospital anyways." He winced as he examined the graze on his arm. "Plus, Lassie could have poisoned himself, so probably should get that looked at.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

"I don't see why you're still wearing that sling." Gus grumbled at his friend as the two of them walked through the station the following week.

"Gus, don't be the zestless lemon. I need this sling because I was shot last week, again."

"You were grazed with the bullet, it's like when you were barely poisoned."

"Agree to disagree," Shawn grinned and then turned to where Lassiter was sitting at his desk.

The head detective had bounced back quickly after a trip to the hospital. The doctors there had pumped his stomach and given him some new medicine and whatever bug he had was long gone.

"Glad to see you're feeling better, Lassie. Those Russians really seemed to have it out for you."

"You arrest somebody once for trafficking weapons into the country and they start holding a grudge." Lassiter mumbled, not really paying attention to who was talking to him.

"Hmm, that would explain the mustaches," Shawn nodded solemnly to Gus.

Lassiter finally realized who he was talking to. He looked up from his files and raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you with something, Spencer, or are you set on wasting valuable police time today?"

"Oh, I was just wondering how things were going. Have you seen any squirrels lately?" He gave Gus a smile.

Lassiter narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He stated.

"Lack of contractions!" Shawn shouted.

"Spencer, I may have said some things while under the influence of a recalled drug that might not have made sense." Lassiter told him curtly. "But-"

"But that doesn't make them any less funny?" Gus cut in.

"But that doesn't mean that I can't mail the video of you to America's Funniest Home Videos and win ten thousand dollars?" Shawn countered.

"You know that's right," Gus gave him a fistbump.

"But that doesn't mean I don't remember saving your life." Lassiter finished, glaring at them.

"Oh," Shawn frowned. "Well, when you put it that way."

"Exactly, now if you'll excuse me, I have some tactics to go over before the weekend. You never know what might attack you in your own home." Lassiter told them seriously. "Nasty little buggers," he murmured as he brushed past Shawn and Gus.

Shawn tilted his head to the side as he watched Lassiter leave. "Dude, you don't think..."

"He wasn't being serious... right?" Gus gave Shawn a worried look.

"No... he couldn't have been... could he?"

"You know that's right," Gus finished, but his fistbump wasn't as enthusiastic as normal as the two friends watched Lassiter knock on the chief's office door and give them a small, sadistic grin before entering.


End file.
